Hair
by effie's head
Summary: Katara and Aang have a thought provoking conversation.


Disclaimer: I own Avatar...psych.  
Here's something strange from inside effie's head.  
Set before "The Waterbending Master," but that's not really important.

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**Hair**

"Ninety-three, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six..."

It was one of those rare, perfect mornings. Sunlight sprinkled the forest floor and dodged between feathery patches of shade. A cool breeze turned idle leaves into dancers as it wafted through the camp. Beside the ring of stones that held the ashes of last night's fire, Aang sprawled on the grass with distant eyes and a serene smile.

Katara was glad that they could spare the time to relax, even if it was only for one morning, and even if it happened by accident. When she woke up, it was already late in the morning, and Aang and Sokka were sill sleeping. What surprised her was not that she had overslept, but how good it felt. Perhaps traveling had taken its physical toll on all of them. She tidied up the camp and let the two boys sleep. They both woke up pleasantly refreshed. In fact, Sokka was so refreshed that he offered to search the woods for breakfast. With her brother gone, Katara was enjoying the sound of her own voice, and the stiff scratching sound of her brush's bristles pulling through her hair.

"Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred..." She had picked up the brush in the last market they'd visited. It was simple, wooden, functional, and had cost her four copper pieces. Had she not been desperate, she would've held out for a cheaper one. But she had let Aang keep her old brush after she caught him using it to untangle Momo's fur. At the time she had smiled and waved it off – Aang didn't know better. Still, she couldn't help but shudder – how long had he been doing that? Not that she doubted that Momo was a relatively clean animal, but he was still an _animal_. Always running around the woods, and climbing trees, and who knows what kind of things he –

"It must be nice." Katara was relieved when Aang's voice interrupted her thoughts, because she was starting to itch.

"What must be nice?" she asked.

Aang rolled over onto his stomach so that he was facing her. "Oh, you know..." He sighed, motioning vaguely towards his head. "Having hair, brushing it – stuff like that."

Something that Katara had always admired was the power of silence, whether it was an expertly placed pause by a speaker that brought an audience to attention, or the wordless glare her father had mastered – the one that meant she was _big_ trouble. Silence had an undeniable effect on people. Now, that same effect worked against Katara as the silence following Aang's statement hung uneasily before her.

Patiently, Aang gazed at her. Katara stared back dumbly.

_Aang wants hair?_ Katara couldn't decide which was more ludicrous – the thought itself or the fact that it made her so uncomfortable. She shook her head and chuckled softly. Well, if that was the case, she'd just have to handle the situation with extra care.

"Hair can be nice," she began, "but it can be a real hassle, too. You have to wash it every day, and then it gets tangled and you have to comb it all out..." She tried to emphasize her point with some exasperated hand gestures, because the truth was that Katara really liked her hair, and she didn't mind brushing, and combing, and washing it. But she didn't want Aang to feel bad. "...It hurts when people pull on it," she ended lamely. "You're lucky that you don't have to worry about any of that."

He nodded thoughtfully. "When we get to the North Pole, I'll have to get a hat."

"Well, so will I," she reassured him. "But, if you're really that worried about it, why don't you just..." She paused, grasping for the right words, but they didn't come. "You know, grow some hair?" _I can't believe we're even having this discussion!_

"Oh, I plan to," Aang chirped, sitting up. "When I get older, I'll probably grow a beard." Katara smiled as he stroked his bare chin. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "I know – well, I _used_ to know a man whose beard was so long that he tied it over his head and used it for a hat in the winter. It's true!" he insisted when Katara laughed.

She shook her head again and began to gather her long tresses back, leaving two loose strands on either side of her face. Carefully, she separated the hair with her thumbs, starting at her temples and trailing back until her hands met. She rolled the top half into a tight bun, secured it, and began working on the braid. Her fingers moved deftly without her guidance. She'd been styling her hair for as long as she could remember, ever since her mother had taught her to braid it. After the men of her village had left, every little girl came to Katara to get their hair braided while their mothers were busy with extra duties.

"No, no." She turned her attention back to Aang, who was watching her as if she was performing a magic trick. " I meant the hair on your head, not your face. Just don't -"

Don't what? How _did_ Aang keep his hair from growing? Did he shave it off? She had never seen him do that. Then again, whatever he did, he probably did when he bathed, so it was only natural that she knew nothing about it. Now Katara was curious, but she wouldn't dare ask – Aang's personal hygiene was his business.

"Just let your hair grow out," she amended. "If you start now, you'll probably have a decent amount by the time we reach the North Pole."

Katara tied a cord around the end of her braid as she waited for Aang's reply. When she, once again, met only silence, she glanced up at him. And frowned, confused.

Aang was frowning, too, and Katara could see that he was also confused. But the look on his face reminded her of the look she gave her brother on multiple occasions, like when he speared his thumb with two fishhooks (he still had the scar!). It was a look that simply and clearly said, "What is _wrong_ with you?"

_Was it something I said?_ "Aang, I'm sorry if I-"

"Grow...hair...?" he murmured. A small giggle escaped his lips. He giggled again, and Katara began to relax. At least he wasn't mad at her. But as the giggles continued and grew louder, Katara grew concerned. And by the time Aang was nearly doubled over and howling with laughter, shoulders shaking and tears streaming down his face, Katara was very worried. When the boy started making gagging noises and clutching his chest, Katara could truthfully say that she was getting kind of scared. Aang was laughing so hard, he couldn't even breathe!

Finally, he settled down enough to take a few deep breaths, and Katara caught herself inhaling and exhaling with him. The manic laughter had died down, but a few giggles escaped as he exhaled. _Hee hoo-ooo-ooo, hee hoo-ooo-ooo..._

"Katara," he said when he had calmed enough to speak, "you make the best jokes!"

She smiled weakly. "Joke...Of course..." Katara picked up one of her beads and threaded it through with one of the loose strands that hung in front of her face. She clipped the end to her bun, then started on the next strand.

"Hey, guys, look at this weird fruit I found!" Katara was grateful for her brother's loud entrance as he trampled through the brush at the edge of the clearing. Sokka came in flaunting something lumpy, and yellow, and the size of his fist. "There's a ton of them back there. You think they're edible?"

"I hope so – I'm starving!" Aang fluttered to his feet and ran to greet Sokka, leaving Katara alone to figure out her own joke. She didn't get it.

Katara glanced at Aang, sun glinting off his head as he and Sokka examined the fruit.

Maybe some questions were better unanswered.

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_Note: I don't know where that came from. Just a weird thought I had while bored at work. Which, coincidentally, is a hair salon..._


End file.
